Raindrops
by TheSilentQuill
Summary: Collins has always loved the rain.


Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.

Notes: Written for Rentaddict using the prompt Collins/Angel :Rain for this week's fic exchange at rentficchallenge.

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Collins always loved the rain. As a child, he would sit in front of the window and watch the falling drops for hours. He'd trace their journey from the heavens with his finger and speculate where each drop would end up eventually. Before school and before science class, he had believed that raindrops were the tears of angels and that rain fell when God was feeling sad or lonely. Even after he learned about the Water Cycle, he still held on to this childhood belief.

In junior high, he found comfort in the rain. He had started to realize he was different from most of the other boys in the school. He was the only one who didn't stare after the girls in his class. He never joined in their expeditions to catch a glimpse of the girls changing in the locker room. He just wasn't interested. At first he thought he was just developing more slowly than the other boys. But when Luke Taylor beat him up for watching him too closely in the shower, the rain washed the blood from his nose and calmed his fears.

In high school he had a series of crushes. Some of them never developed beyond a few glances, but a few developed into the whirlwind romances that high school is known for. Unfortunately, Collins learned more about heartbreak than academics. The rain soothed him each time a relationship ended. The rain washed away the tears and bitterness allowing him to love again.

In college, Collins felt the need to experiment. He tried alcohol of all kinds and while he learned to love Stoli, he had an ironic hatred for Gin and therefore couldn't stomach the drink he suspected he was named for. He appreciated the high from marijuana, but hated the out-of-control highs from anything stronger. He obtained a passport and airline ticket to Europe and discovered the joys of anonymous sex in strange lands. Most of all, he became addicted to new ideas. This last addiction may not have been as dangerous, but it led to the most trouble. It clouded his judgment more than most chemicals and resulted in him visiting jail cells in no fewer than twelve European nations. The rain visited him in each foreign cell and reminded him that some things stay constant, even though people try to change them.

It rained when Collins moved to New York. He had been accepted to the prestigious Columbia University philosophy department as a graduate student. He directed his focus to wreaking havoc only in the world of Academia instead of society at large. Collins found an industrial loft in the East Village that suited his needs. Roommates from different walks of life came and went He had a series of lovers that promised him the world but never delivered. It seemed fitting that it rained whenever he broke up with one of them.

New roommates moved into the loft. For the most part they fit the stereotype of Bohemian artists: Roger, the rocker in search of a band; Maureen, the drama queen; quiet Mark, the film maker; and the exception to the rule, Benny. They were more tolerable than any of Collins' previous roommates. They all had a spark for life and could appreciate his views on life and sense of humor. It rained when the white envelope that changed his life arrived: his test results. Instead of abandoning him, this group supported him and sat in the rain next to him while he contemplated what it meant to be HIV-positive.

It was too cold for rain the night Angel entered his life. He was cold, alone, shivering and scared when he heard the sweetest voice asking if he was OK. Until he met Angel, he had never really known what it meant to be in love. In less than a day, Angel melted the ice around his heart that had formed to protect him. He felt more passionately, loved more deeply and felt his soul connect with another in a way that he had never thought was possible until he experienced it. Angel's kisses had the same cleansing effect as a rain shower. Her caresses comforted him like a warm summer shower.

Their souls became more entwined and they spent many days together. On warm, rainy days they would dance in the park. In the past rain was his comfort but Angel showed him that it could also be a source of joy. The simple acts of twirling between the drops and dancing through the puddles brought a lightness that he hadn't experienced since he was a child.

In the summer Collins had a break between the two sets of classes he was teaching. He and Angel went upstate for a few days. Angel brought the sleeping bag and tent. He had hung onto the mementos he had as a boy scout. It rained the three days that they spent in the Finger Lakes, but neither of them minded. The gentleness of a summer shower danced on their naked skin as they made love on a secluded beach.

The days grew shorter, and it was obvious that Angel was fading. They watched the rain together, first from their apartments and then from Angel's hospital room. Some nights, Collins would stay and wrap his arms around Angel as they listened to the pitter-patter against the windowpanes. They reminded each other that the rain would fall and that life would continue even after they both were gone.

It didn't rain the night Angel left him. He called people one by one. He was strong when he told Angel's grandmother that he was no longer suffering. His voice shook when he told their friends, but otherwise he was numb. He felt so lost. The rain held back during the funeral and the ceremony in the cemetery. It held back as he said goodbye to Roger and wished the others well. He fled to the roof as Roger and Mark argued.

When he was finally alone, the numbness of the past few days dissolved and the loneliness threatened to break him apart. His soul felt like it was wrenched in two. He started to weep, mourning the loss of his love, his friend, his soul mate. The heavens opened and it started to pour. As Collins cried, the rain continued to weep with him.

And then he remembered his childhood belief and took comfort in it. He was not alone. He had been right. Raindrops were indeed the tears of an Angel.


End file.
